


Lithium Flower

by knownotwhatisinstore



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Connor is a Good Boy, F/M, Feelings, Hank is overprotective as hell, I'm going to get lost in my head and create new world rules maybe, android mechanic!reader, might possibly not follow some game mechanics tbh, okay maybe I'm just soft for markus, sex with an android, soft!markus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-13 00:32:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18457814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knownotwhatisinstore/pseuds/knownotwhatisinstore
Summary: Deviant android cases have been becoming more rampant, and for an android mechanic, you'd be surprised at what you see. Lt. Det. Hank Anderson is a dear friend and values your opinion, even if his isn't the greatest on this outbreak. When he's partnered up with one, both of you are affected in ways that you didn't think possible. The revolution is coming, and you need to figure out which side you're on.





	1. Calm Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Major Disclaimer: This is going to follow the wind, whichever way it blows. I'm going to probably create my own lore (like with theories about android skin), but try like hell to stay true to the characters that will be involved in this story. Don't expect any kind of update schedule; I will try to update every two weeks.

“Listen, kid, I need your full cooperation. Anything you know will help my case,” Lt. Detective Hank Anderson huffed, his eyes looking over the bottom of his empty beer bottle. When he got bored of doing that, his gaze turned to you, who also stared at the bottom of an empty bottle. Root beer, though, seeing as you didn’t want to drink.

“Hank, you know I took a Hippocratic Oath not to talk about my patients,” you said, putting the glass down and turning to him. “I’m like a doctor, you know.”

“You’re an android mechanic, sweetheart; there’s no oath when it comes to them.” Hank tapped the counter with his knuckles to get the bartender’s attention. He had a new beer in his hands only seconds later.

“I was an engineer at one point, you know. A brilliant young woman working her way through CyberLife. Until I got tired of it,” you said with a sigh. It felt like ages ago that you quit being at the mercy of the merchandise vendor. You had major accomplishments under your belt, one such proud moment creating the RK800 – until another stole your entire schematic and sold it off before you could.

“Just answer the question, will ya?” Hank groaned, gulping his beer down.

“No, I have not seen any deviant behavior in the androids that come to me. They’re scared, and they’re hurt, but still very much following the algorithms they were bought with. I’m not even sure what’s causing this deviancy,” you said, pulling your lip between your teeth and biting at the skin there.

“You didn’t see anything out of the ordinary? Nothing at all?’ Hank pressed, almost falling off his stool when he tilted his glass back too far. You helped him right himself on the stool and took his bottle away.

“Alright Hank, you’re getting cut off for the night,” you said, sliding off your seat and pulling him up.

“I only had ffffive!” he exclaimed trying to grip the bar so you couldn’t pull him any farther away. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t at his best after downing seven bottles, not five, plus three glasses of whiskey, and therefore couldn’t fight you. Not that he was really trying.

“I’ll take you home, old man,” you grunted as you tried to hold him up. He only lived a few houses down from yours, so it wasn’t much of a hassle to bring his drunk ass home. Dealing with him until you got him home, well that was the issue.

Generally, Hank could hold an entire conversation with himself when he was drunk, but you supposed his police duties were still at the forefront of his terribly drunken head. He mumbled to himself in the cab you waved down, praying he wouldn’t barf in this one.

“What the fffuck is up with all these androids goin’ berserk? They’re jus’ computers!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already getting a headache from Hank. He didn’t get the complexities that went into them. Yes, androids were made of algorithms, but there was also so much more to them. Learning capabilities, emotion recognition, something close to empathy. They were incredible marvels of science, and math, and to a different extent – of art.

According to Hank, there was a growing threat of deviants killing humans in what could amount to rage. After what you’ve seen as the “Android Mechanic”, you knew very well why they would go deviant in the first place. You’ve tried to explain that to Hank, but he was never sober enough to understand. Well, not until after what happened to his son. He used to be quite pleasant then.

The cab stopped in front of Hank’s house and you pulled him out and up to his front door. “Keys,” you said putting your hand out for them. Hank just blinked. You rolled your eyes and started to dig through his pockets, all while he tried to fight you off. At least there were no gross comments this time. That was an improvement.

You managed to fish his keys out and unlocked his door for him; his giant Saint Bernard met you at the door with an affectionate bark while you tugged Hank in. “To bed with you, old man! And don’t drink anymore. If I found out you did, there will be consequences!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, unsteadily toeing his shoes off and making his way to his bedroom.

“You should just give me a key you know! It would make this much easier!” you shouted to his retreating back, sending a menacing fist wave his way for good measure. You sighed, throwing his keys on the hook near his door. You let Sumo out for a bathroom break before closing him in and locking the door from the inside.

Pulling your hood up, you walked down the street to your house, which was almost the same as Hank’s, except yours had an exceptional basement. Your workspace. Not even remotely as big as the one you used to work in, or furnished as richly as you were spoiled with when working at CyberLife. You had what you needed to get by, funded by a rich painter that was rather soft on you. You personally took care of his android – you were the only person he trusted to do so.

Your basement’s hatch was designed to only open to your palm – when you held it out like you were going to do some insane magic, a laser scanned your hand and the doors sprung open. You also had beefed security on it to make sure you knew who was coming through that door at all times. Even when you weren’t home, you received a ping whenever something set off the motion alarm.

You pulled your hood off once you were in your workspace, sitting down at your main desk and grabbed the inventory list you keep.

The last android that came in required a new eye unit, plastic pieces for her face, and some plating for her cranium. It looked like someone tried to blow a hole through her head with a shotgun. How she survived the blast in the first place was still a mystery to you, but there have been weirder things out there.

You figured a trip to the junkyard was in order for tomorrow, so you made a few more notes on items you needed to recycle. Thirium was another item you were running low on, and that shit was expensive. You knew the formula by heart, but you didn’t have the proper equipment to brew your own. Also, it was impossible to do that because the police have been tracking each raw material purchase. If they had even a modicum of a thought that you were making your own Thirium, they’d hang you without a jury.

It would have been easier if people weren’t turning it into a terrible drug. But no, Red Ice has to exist and make your job a hell of a lot harder.

It also wasn’t helping that you were doing all of this repair work for free.

You looked down at your watch and couldn’t believe the time. Why couldn’t Hank take you out for dinner instead of dragging you to a bar so late at night? You couldn’t say you were a night owl – not any more at least – so getting up early for your first appointment tomorrow was not going to be pleasant.

“I should start charging him, the old bastard,” you grumbled under your breath with a small chuckle. You were too fond of him to be upset, of course.

You tossed the inventory list back on the desk and got ready for a shower and bed.

 

* * *

 

The first android of the day was in rough shape. His entire arm was seized, like someone left metal out in the rain and it rusted right up. He was a MP500, otherwise seemingly well taken care of. There were a few androids that allowed you to review their memory, or what’s considered a “probe” into their system. This android was very helpful and very open. Your gut was telling you that there was nothing worth being worried about, and the probe proved your gut right. This android was very much part of the family.

“Can you run a diagnostic for me?” you asked him, watching his LED go from blue to yellow.

“Nothing is wrong systemically; I am functioning correctly,” he said, trying to move his arm again.

“Maybe you have something jammed in your joint. Are you okay with me opening up your shoulder?”

“If you feel you must, then yes,” he said, starting to remove the uniform from his upper half.

“Make sure you power off any receptors in that area too,” you directed, going to your desk to retrieve your kit. The synthetic skin all androids used wasn’t just colored plastic like everyone thought. The frame was a heavy duty plastic, yes, but the skin was made from a mixture of natural and artificial soup. So to speak. Algae and a stabilized ferrofluid, believe it or not, were pretty important to the whole equation; it’s how they managed to show skin or pull it back to reveal their plastic frame. It was a common misconception that androids were just colored plastic. How else could they feel soft and spongy?

Your scalpel sliced through it easily and neatly, no fluids releasing from it. You pulled the skin aside and stared at the joint, stopping short at the sight. “You have a _nail_ embedded in there. How did you get a nail stuck there?” It was three inches long and stuck so badly you needed to get pliers to get a grip on it.

“So that was where it went,” the android hummed, and you stopped what you were doing to look at him incredulously.

“ _What_? What the hell were you doing that would put a three inch nail in your shoulder?” you resumed yanking on the nail to try to get it to budge. It wasn’t moving.

“Well, I am an android best for chores. I can get any stain out of a shirt. I can wash the dishes until they are sparkling. But I cannot seem to grasp the hammer and nail part.”

“I’ll say. Have you heard of a nail gun? Better yet, never mind that,” you said through gritted teeth, still trying to pull that sucker out. The android placed his mobile hand on yours and took the pliers to pull the nail free by himself. He made it look easy.

However, once the nail was free, blue blood started to flow, and you gracefully grabbed a medical-grade clamp and stopped the flow enough to patch the vein with something akin to electrical tape.  Flipping up the patch of skin you had to cut, you placed it perfectly back in position and it almost zipped itself up.

“You want to do a system restart? To get your arm back online?” You asked, walking to grab the bottle of Thirium you had to fill a cup halfway. To replace the blood he lost. You watched his LED flash between blue and yellow, and for a second, no one was home. His eyes were completely dead. Just as quickly, the light in his eyes returned and he was able to move his arm. You held out the cup for him and he took it, drinking the contents before handing you back the cup. “Check your range of motion for me, and then you’re good to go. Please stay away from nails.”

“I will try to explain that to Marissa, but I may be back with more nails in places they should not be,” he said, and you grinned at his sense of humor.

“Take care of her and the girls. They’ve been through hell,” you said quietly, watching him nod proudly as he left the basement, tugging his shirt back on.

You sighed through your nose and turned to your desk, noting the MP500’s needed repairs and the usage of Thirium as well. The bottle was only half full at this point, and probably wouldn’t last you the rest of the day. You needed to order more, plain and simple.

 

* * *

 

The bus ride to the nearest CyberLife store was longer than you wanted it to be, but it let you drift off out of your head for a little reprieve. You always had to make an effort not to look behind you at the android compartment at the back. You liked analyzing them to see which ones you created. When all was said and done, however, it left a bad taste in your mouth. You created the base models for most of them. And yet you’re stuck in your basement doing repairs for free.

The city was bustling when you arrived at your stop; androids were walking with their humans, or walking alone. The only unaccompanied humans happened to be protesters, but you kept your distance from those idiots. You didn’t need to hear their unfounded cries.

Treat the androids well, and you won’t have to worry for your life. That’s all. Pretty simple. Also, humans have proven themselves to be lazy as hell, so sending their android to work for them just proved that ‘machines’ are better workers than them. Of course corporations are going to take things that abide by instructions and don’t tire.

You never walked through the entrance of any CyberLife merchandise store, mostly because the sales team was annoying. You went around back to knock at the office’s door to get access, knowing Gene was working and he would let you in.

“Hey, kid, you need more shit?” he asked when he opened the door. His skinny, full-haired days were long past him, and his smoking habits weren’t helping him either. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I need more Thirium. Spare parts I’ll get from the junk yard,” you said, pulling a charge card out of your pocket. You watched him stub his cigarette out on the side of the building before allowing you entry to the back office.

“Just a case?” he asked, sniffling as if he were trying to pull a hanging snot back into his nose. You grimaced at the sound, but affirmed your need for one case. “I can give you a deal, buy 1 case, get the other half off…” he trailed, giving you a wink.

“I’m fine Gene,” you said with a small smile. He wanted to pocket the rest for himself, which you couldn’t say you were against, but you’d still be losing money. You only put enough funds on your card for one case.

“Alright, alright. Have you been keeping up with the deviant android cases?” He handed you the box you needed and you followed him back to his desk to follow up payment.

“I haven’t. And before you ask,” you said before Gene could get a word in, “I haven’t seen any come through for repairs. Abuse cases that would make a social worker vomit, but no deviancy.” You tapped your card against the reader and it lit up green.

“Hm. I figured you would have seen them. Well, here’s to the robot apocalypse!” he said, cheering his water bottle up.

“Goodbye, Gene. I’ll be back when I need more,” you yelled, practically out the door already. You walked out of the alley and turned the corner when you noticed an android you were very familiar with. “Markus!”

The android in question turned to you with a small smile. You jogged to catch up to him and pulled him into a one armed hug. He was used to it by now, so there was no stiff return. After all, he was made to be the best companion. The best companions gave the best hugs. You should know; Elijah and you made him.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted, pulling back to look at you. It was when you noticed there were a few tears in his shirt.

“What happened? Did someone put their hands on you?” Rage flashed in your eyes, but Markus placed a hand on your shoulder.

“A cop intervened before anything worse happened. It’s just a shirt. I’ve got plenty more at home.” He turned to check the bus stop, before turning back to you. “I came out here to buy paint for Carl. He’s finishing up a mural in the backyard.”

“Carl’s painting again? Oh that’s fantastic to hear! You’ve been taking care of him, right?” He gave you a look like you were crazy before chuckling. You couldn’t help the laugh that came out. You were so happy to see him.

“How are you? Are you running okay? Do you need any tuning up?” you asked incessantly, making him roll his own eyes.

“Sweetheart, every time we meet up, you ask me that. I told you I’ll go to you if I need to. Don’t worry about me. I’m doing fine,” he admonished, turning you towards the bus stop. You pouted at him but walked forward with him.

You stopped and turned to him, suddenly overcome with emotion, “Seriously Markus, I’m so proud of you. You are everything that I hoped for and more when Elijah and I designed you. You-“

“You say _that_ every time you see me, too,” Markus interrupted teasingly, although he was a little blue in the cheeks, showing his embarrassment. “I got it. I’m happy you created me and I’m happy with Carl too.”

“If I could properly squeeze your cheeks, I would, you brat,” you teased back, trying to keep your own blush at bay.

Markus’ bus came and went, leaving you alone at the stop. You reflected on his build and all the hours you put into his system design. He was a test to see if a more autonomous android could be made and also be accepted. Carl took incredible care of him, too, so you really didn’t need to worry too much about either of them. The only one you really needed to worry about was Carl’s demon spawn.


	2. Cause and Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader meets a familiar face - just not in the way you expect. Then you find a familiar face in a place that you'd hoped to never see them. Hank is in poppa bear mode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be long, since I just kept writing! It's amazing how quickly I got this down. There's kind of an abundance of wistful longing in this? You'll get it when you read it. Every time I see a picture of Connor for reference, I just can't believe that a character exists like him? I clutch my chest like I'm pained to see him in all his beautiful glory.
> 
> I'm also deviating from the storyline a bit here. I have a nasty habit of trying to "re-write" the story to include an insert (whether OC or Reader) and I'm trying not to do that. But there's some important pieces that I want to include. So I'm trying to make it minimal.
> 
> Anyway! Please enjoy and send good vibes so that I get the next chapter done quickly!

It was too late at night for your phone to be going off. You groaned and picked it up, not even recognizing your own sleepy voice. “Hello?”

“ _Kid! I need ya to pick me up. Mm at my usual spot_ ,” Hank’s drunk slur met your ears and you groaned again.

“Get a cab Hank. I can’t collect you like a mother picking up her sick child. And you’re a detective! You shouldn’t be drinking so damn much,” you said, knowing these words were going in one ear and out the other. That’s how Hank’s been for a while now.

“ _Come get me_.” Then he hung up on you. You threw your phone back on the nightstand and flopped down on the bed in annoyance. It was almost midnight! Breathing harshly out of your nose, you ran your fingers through your hair and grabbed a pair of jeans that was on the floor. You forwent putting a bra on and threw a thick hoodie over your head.

One cab ride later, you were telling the driver to stay put while you steeled yourself to enter the bar. Who you saw with Hank metaphorically punched you in the gut. Your hands flew up to your mouth with a gasp, and you almost fell backwards onto your ass. Hank noticed your behavior, and it sobered him up a little.

“Kid! What’s wrong?” he asked, haphazardly sliding off his stool to reach for you. You backed up, tears in your eyes.

“What kind of fucking sick joke is this?” you wavered, your hands immediately going back to cover your mouth. Hank could only look at you quizzically before realizing your stare was on the thing behind him. He turned to look at the new robot cop that was soon to be his new partner. He didn’t know of any connection, so he turned back to you.

“That’s Connor. He’s my new plastic sidekick. Until I get to the station to fight it, anyway,” he said with a snort, about to add more except a roar from you made him jump.

“ _They even named you Connor?!_ ” you screamed, your teary eyes focused on the android before you.

The android in question looked shocked for a split second before answering “I’m the android sent by CyberLife to assist Lt Detective Anderson with his cases.” He stood perfectly still. They even replicated his voice?! “Do I know you?” he asked gently, his facial recognition warning him there was a hysterical human before him, and he needed to deescalate the situation.

Hank took your arms and lowered your hands from your mouth. He looked you in the eye, making an attempt to force you to give him eye contact. “Look at me, kid. Don’t pay attention to it. Tell me why you reacted to it like this,” he prodded softly.

Managing eye contact, your lip quivered, but no sound came out.

“Detective, I apologize, but we have a crime scene we need to get to. I was told to escort you there,” Connor interrupted, and your eyes fluttered shut as one tear slid down your cheek. Hank pulled you to him in a strong hug, cupping the back of your head to his shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up, Connor,” he growled, holding you to him like his life depended on it. “You’re going to come with me to the scene and tell me everything, you got that, kid?”

“You’re so nosy.” You wiped at your eyes and sniffled a bit before pulling away from him.

“I’m a cop; comes with the territory.”

You couldn’t help the teary smile at his attempt to cheer you up, but your heart felt like it was breaking all over again. You weren’t paying attention when Connor analyzed you, taking in your appearance and shiny cheeks as tears still slid down them. He felt anxious at your reaction, and felt strange, like a flight-or-fight situation raging in his programming.

Hank turned you around to lead you outside to his car, waving on the cab that you told to stay put. Both Hank and Connor entered the car as well and drove off.

You were curled up in the back seat of Hank’s car, the red and blue lights on his dashboard making you blink your eyes to try and save your sight from destruction. Didn’t work.

“Pretend plastic ass isn’t in the car with us and get talkin’,” Hank said, gripping the steering wheel unnecessarily hard at the thought of the android next to him.

“He’s an android, Hank. A being capable of thought. It’ll do you well to remember that,” you practically whispered, not wanting to look to your right to see him. “Connor, who is your creator?”

He seemed to startle, as if he wasn’t expecting you to speak to him. “CyberLife created me as the newest model in the RK line-“ His voice cut out when you interrupted him.

“Not who sells you – who _created_ you? You’re too new for Elijah to have made you.”

“I was created by many different programmers and engineers. There wasn’t just one person that created me,” he answered. _Wrong_.

“Hank, this is before you met me. Please keep that in mind,” you started, shifting in your seat, “A long time ago, I was working with Elijah to create androids in his garage while ‘CyberLife’ was still a pipe dream. While Elijah was all for being the business-brain of the company, I was a silent partner for much of our time there. We created Chloe together, and had plans to create more, better androids.

“I created the schematics for a lot of different androids, created software mapping thought processes, perfected biocomponents. While Elijah ran the business, I created the product. It was a good strategy until CyberLife got too big.

“But there, when we needed more engineers, we met…” you trailed off, swallowing hard, “ _I_ met the love of my life. And the man that took it all away from me.” You stopped to close your eyes and calm down before you lost it again. When you opened your eyes, Connor was watching you at an awkward angle that the seatbelt could afford him, and you almost whimpered. You reached out a hand to touch his face, your fingertips brushing his cheek bone. His head tilted slightly into your touch. Was this the creation recognizing his true creator? Before you could think more on that, he turned back around. The LED light blinking yellow reflected in the window, and you saw it.

“Kid?” Hank asked, not seeing what happened, but did catch the wistful look in the mirror.

“The love of my life helped me start a project – the RK800 project. We wanted to create an android to help the police force by using basic investigative functions: real-time sample testing, crime scene scenario mapping, probability factors, and negotiation abilities. The RK800 would be autonomous to a point, capable of making decisions and following through projects without outside help. That was the plan.

“At one point I jokingly told him that we should fashion the android after him because he was incredibly approachable. Everyone liked him.”

“What was his name?” Connor asked, sounding truly curious and empathetic.

“Oh shit,” Hank said under his breath, “His name was Connor, wasn’t it?”

“Very perceptive of you, Hank.” You closed your eyes again, and like last time, when you opened them, Connor was staring at you.

“And he looked like me?” he asked, his LED flashing yellow again. You could only nod. “What happened to him?”

“He-he was k-killed,” you managed to get out through your rapidly closing throat, and you couldn’t breathe. The tears threatened to spill again, but you bit your lip to try and stop them. After a pause, you continued “They tried to blame it solely on android protestors; someone stabbed him while he was fighting with them. But I know that’s not completely true. _He_ had a role in it too. I just know he did.”

The car pulling up to the curb quieted you until Hank turned around to look at you.

“So,” Connor started, his voice wavering slightly, “I look like the man you promised yourself to? Seeing me must hurt you then, and I’m sorry for that.” Your heart clenched at his words; you were certain your Connor would have said the exact same thing.

“Then I’ll get rid of him,” Hank said with a wave of his hand, opening his car door. “Stay here, kid. I’ll take you home after I look at the scene.” He then bent over to talk to Connor still unbuckling his belt, “Wait here.”

That was the last you heard over the rain, but you were looking at the house. It looked like a typical slummy house, maybe with some fire damage on the overhang in the front. You watched Hank’s form disappear into the rain.

The interior was silent for a bit before Connor shifted in his seat. His hand reached for the door handle (probably his programming telling him to follow to investigate) but he stalled. He turned to you slightly (that wasn’t his programming).

“So you created me?” he whispered, almost afraid to look at you.

You took in his side profile and your heart clenched. He was exactly like your Connor, even down to the small moles on his neck and cheeks, a spackling of freckles. You then wondered whether or not he felt the same.

“Essentially, yes. I had you all worked out and a basic prototype created before you were stolen from me.” You wanted to reach out and touch him, but by that point his programming won out and he finally opened the door. He sent you a small nod before shutting it behind him and following Hank. You knew Connor wouldn’t obey his instructions and stay in the car; Connor was programmed to complete his mission.

You wished you could see Connor in action. The sleepless nights, the pots of coffee, the coding, the frustration – you hoped it accomplished something. Or that _bastard_ completely removed your entire base and redid it. He could only ever see in black and white.

You also wished for some background on this current case. The captain of the force tasked Hank with any and all deviant cases, so you surmised this was one. You thought your expertise would be welcome here, but you weren’t a cop. Just…a mechanic.

You rested your forehead against the glass, listening to the rain on the roof of the car and your own heartbeat. This whole debacle just proved to yourself that you weren’t over his death. It’s been years, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to move on. He meant the world to you. And now an imposter was running around, looking and sounding just like him.

You knew you shouldn’t take it out on Connor. He didn’t build himself out of spite for you. You just hated your body’s immediate response to familiarity – that must be your Connor and therefore your fingers itched to touch him, trace his form, be held by him. You growled at that traitorous feeling and squashed it down.

You got caught up in your head for so long, it wasn’t until the driver’s side door swung open that you managed to even remember where you were. And who you were with.

“We found the android,” Hank grunted, sitting down in his seat and closing his door. Connor did the same on his side, minus any noises. “It looked like it was beaten beforehand.”

“What was the damage?” you asked, your gaze on Connor’s profile again.

“He had burns on his skin, and damage to his right arm from blunt force trauma. He was also covered in his owner’s blood,” Connor kindly answered. You were surprised he didn’t just tell you it was confidential. Huh.

“Are you taking him in for questioning?” you asked more to Hank, since he was quiet and rather moody since he got into the car. He just grunted at you. “Are you wearing a thong today, Hank? It seems like you have something up your ass.”

You caught Hank trying not to laugh in the rearview mirror by screwing his mouth up and chewing on the inside of his cheek, and you were happy you could lighten up the mood. Considering the last hour, you were doing your best to snap yourself out of your funk. Humor was a good way to go, right?

“It’s just this shit is starting to get out of hand. These androids going crazy and attacking their owners…”

“Hank, it sounds like this one was just as abused as the ones that come through my basement. I really think that an emotional stimulus is causing most of these deviant cases-“

“Babe, they’re computers,” Hank interrupted, “They don’t have emotions.”

You let out of frustrated growl, “they are far more complex than you think! You think they’re only programmed with zeroes and ones, but they aren’t. You forget who you’re talking to sometimes; I deal with them every day!”

After your rant, you finally noticed you had Connor’s full attention. His LED was flashing yellow and he was blinking a lot.

“Do you truly believe that?” he asked, his eyes full of questions and even disbelief.

“I do. Have you ever done anything that didn’t help you reach your end goal? Did something that was inconsequential to completing your mission?”

His mouth opened to say something before Hank stomped on the brakes, making everyone in the car jolt forward. Hank more so, since he didn’t like wearing seatbelts.

“Sorry; red light,” he explained, impatiently drumming his fingers on the wheel. “I have to go directly to the precinct, so I’m going to call you a cab when we get there. That way you get home and you aren’t stuck here for longer than you need to be.”

“Hank, maybe I can be of use to you-“

“Absolutely not. I don’t want you directly involved in these cases. If I get anything new, I’ll ask you about it. The last thing I need is for you to get hurt,” he grumbled firmly. You grit your teeth in frustration but knew he wouldn’t change his mind no matter what you’d say. He was stubborn, just like you, but you knew it came from a good place. You’ve been friends for so long and cared about each other so much.

“Fine,” you sighed, “as soon as you hear something, come to me. I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

 

* * *

 

Hank called a cab for you to return home, chatting with the human receptionist when you got to the precinct. Hank stationed Connor with you to wait. It was awkward. You shuffled your feet and Connor scanned the horizon, waiting for the vehicle. He didn’t want to look at you, out of fear that you’d start crying again.

But you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. You planned him out to the very exact detail that stood before you, down to the number of eyelashes that fluttered when he blinked. That idiot didn’t change a thing about him. You only wished you could probe his system and see if his processes were changed.

“Do you know how long I worked on you? How…excited I was to be able to work on a project that could help the police? The RK line was made to be autonomous, to make their own decisions by listening to the facts and opinions around them. I’m sure you were loaded with all the latest laws and such, but seeing you complete in front of me…” You trailed off, watching as he finally turned to make eye contact with you.

“It must have taken some time. What-what you said in the car about doing something that wasn’t part of my programming-“ he started, getting cut off by the cab arriving. You stood still, waiting for him to finish.

“At the first crime scene I went to, there was an android holding a young girl hostage. They had a fish tank and there was a fish on the floor. I...picked it up and put it into the tank. I-I also saved a fallen officer by using my tie to tourniquet his wound. Neither of which was part of the objective,” he spoke, his voice quiet and unsure.

You could only smile at him, looking at your feet and biting your lip. “That means my programming is still in there. In you.” You looked up at him again and quickly caressed your thumb over his cheek before getting in the cab. You watched his form get smaller and smaller as the cab drove further and further away.

So not all was lost. He could still think for himself.

The driver followed his prescribed route given to him by Hank, but you decided you couldn’t bring yourself to go home yet. Redirecting to the junk yard instead, you closed your eyes and tried to distract yourself with your mental parts list. A nice stroll through the dump in the pouring rain didn’t sound pleasant, but it grounded you.

The old man that watched this particular place knew you from your silhouette by this time, and he wordlessly handed you an umbrella and a recycled satchel he found just the other day.

“Thank you, Mike,” you said, throwing the satchel strap over your head.

“There were police officers here earlier. They dumped a destroyed android. Looked in good condition otherwise,” he informed, sitting back in his chair. You inspected the bag for holes before you heard a guffaw. “Do you think I’d save a ripped bag for you? I’m insulted.”

You couldn’t help your laugh, “Sorry, it’s habit at this point.”

“The umbrella is new. Make sure you bring it back.” He saluted you, going back to watching his monitors. That was your send off. Mike was gruff and aloof to a fault, but he always watched out for things you may need; he cared in his own way that totally made him grandpa-like.

You opened the umbrella once you were out of his little office and slid down the side of the landfill with a practiced balance before coming to a stop. Some of the androids were still around from last week; some were milling around, not able to climb out to freedom; some chattering nonsensically without legs. Many others were decommissioned. You preferred to stick to those that weren’t moving anymore.

One particular model, the torso of a KR200, caught your eye. You needed a pump regulator for that line of androids. From the look of it, it was still in good shape. No rust or damage. You twisted it and pulled, hearing the scraping of metal and a slight whoosh to accompany it. Inspecting it, you suddenly heard a huge clang and turned to the source. There was an android crawling forward, its legs broken at the knee. You squinted in the dark to see bits of a HK400, but couldn’t see much of the crawling one.

You bagged the piece in your hand and walked over closer to the sound. You couldn’t tell what model it was off the top of your head.

“Hey,” you called, walking even closer. It wasn’t until his face turned, his eye missing and clothes ripped, that you gasped and ran over to him, completely forgetting about the umbrella.

“MARKUS!” you screamed, sliding on your knees to his form. “Markus! Markus! Can you hear me?” His hand grabbed your thigh to try and pull himself up; you noticed his audio receptor was missing. His good eye shown recognition, so you knew he knew it was you. “What do you need? What parts did they rip off you?”

You might have been a little hysterical at this point, and he simply pulled you into a hug. You weren’t sure if you were crying, either. Could have been the rain.

His voice came out a little tinny, but you could hear him over the rain, “I need…left and right legs…optical processor…audio receptor…thirium pump. Sweetheart-“

“Save it for after we fix you. You can explain then,” you said, letting him go gently to get up and look back to where you started. You knew the pump in your bag wouldn’t work for his model. There were hundreds of legs scattered around, and you needed to look at every single part number to make sure it was compatible. You memorized them, but you didn’t have the scan feature that Markus had.

You knew you were getting frantic, but the first thing you wanted to find was a pump regulator. He could shut down if he didn’t. The PB line was similar to the RK line, so you just needed to find one of those. A lot of them were tossed recently from the Cyberlife warehouse, so maybe some made it into this dump.

You checked on Markus again and noticed he found a right leg. When you swung your head back to where you were looking, you found a torso of a PB600 just to the right of you. The head attached to it was speaking nonsensical things, and when you skidded to a halt next to it, it barely registered your presence.

“I’m sorry,” you said before snatching the pump from the sternum and running to Markus. He found a left leg by now. You showed him the pump and he scanned it, showing it was exactly what he needed. You pulled what was left of his shirt aside and pushed it in, waiting for it to come online. Markus inhaled deeply and exhaled in a whoosh. You watched the skin heal over it, and his torso was whole again. He needed an optical unit and audio processer now.

Helping Markus stand, the strength in his legs gave slightly and you caught him, your head under his chin and his arms around your shoulders. He squeezed his arms around you in a quick hug as thanks before standing on his own.

He started scanning the area for parts, and he shook his head in dismay. You followed him when he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward a crevice in the mountain of trash – a throughway to get to the other side. It was unintended by the dump and incredibly narrow to traverse, but Markus pushed through. Mechanical hands grabbed from either side, and you both tried to push through their grips. A full upper half grabbed Markus, startling both of you, before you heard “Find Jericho” being uttered through its broken lips.

Markus fought the android off and pulled you out of there. You could assume that he scanned his surroundings because he started to walk off to the right, falling to his knees and picking up a head. You refrained from asking him anything – he couldn’t really hear you right now anyway. When you watched him pluck out an eye, you immediately swept your eyes over the rest. Audio receptor. He was compatible with an LA-series. And a decommissioned one lay about 20 feet from you to the left.

The issue seemed to be the walking androids, muttering nonsense to themselves. As soon as you stepped forward, their attention turned to you. Panic started to set in when they started their zombie walk to you, but you shook your head and took a defensive stance. You needed that part. Nothing was going to get in your way – you’d lay your life down for Markus.

You yelped when you had a presence push you behind them. Markus’ eye came online in the nick of time. The other androids lost interest and moseyed on away. You ran to the LA900 and slid the audio processor out and brought it to the nearly complete android. The insertion was fine; when it came online, Markus flinched heavily holding his ear. Your hands flew around him, trying to figure out how to help. As soon as it started, it stopped.

“Sweetheart-“

“Save it for when we get out of here. Come on,” you said, gently taking his arm and leading him to the least sloped area that you could remember. It was still a terrible hike, but at least Markus was in one piece.

Without the rain, a normal hop, skip, and jump would suffice to get you out. Since the junk under your feet was slick, even you were having a harder time than usual. You did your best to lead Markus to the safer spaces with handholds to pull yourselves up, and you almost lost him after a piece of junk dislodged under his feet.

It was awkward to grab him with your legs, but you had a good handhold (one you remember from the multiple times you’ve been this way) and you squeezed him between your thighs, his arms around your middle. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

He pulled himself up using your body so now he was tightly grasping the pole you were holding, and after another minute, you both were at the top, safely.

Finally, the lights illuminated him, his shirt was ripped, his pants were now shorts, and he had two different colored eyes. His LED was a steady yellow, and his fingers immediately went to it.

“What happened?” you asked, taking his face into your hands and checking him for more damage.

“Carl and I…we came home…looked like a burglary…called the police – it was Leo looking for money,” he started, fidgeting when you started to use your thumbs to clean off his face like an ever-doting mother would, “He tried to start a fight with me and I couldn’t just stand there and take it anymore. I pushed back. Carl told me to run, but I didn’t have time.” He took your hands away from his face and held them.

You jaw dropped and your eyes widened to their fullest extent, and you fell to your knees before him. “How did you feel?”

He stared at you before answering, “angry. Upset. Disgusted.”

Your jaw clicked shut when you realized the Markus in front of you wasn’t the one you initially programmed. His LED has since turned red. You were looking into the eyes of a deviant android. You immediately deflated, finally feeling the cold rain down your back and the heaviness in your limbs from the climb.

“You thought for yourself – defended yourself and Carl – and you were tossed into the dump? Is Carl okay?”

“As far as I know, yes, he’s okay. Leo had a bad head injury from the looks of it. I don’t think he died.”

“How unfortunate,” you deadpanned. You searched the ground next to you, looking for something sharp. The LED in his temple was superficial and not necessary for anything; it was mainly a way to tell that they were androids by the blinking light along with the uniform. Markus needed to blend in. You knew you couldn’t hide him in your basement. Not with Hank constantly in and out.

You found a jagged stone and held it up, showing him what was in your hand. He balked.

“What’s that for?”

“Your LED needs to be removed. I can’t take you home with me, but I think you have somewhere you need to go. ‘Jericho’ that broken android said.” You cupped the side of his face before taking the rock and yanking the lighted object off his head. The skin around it healed over, and he looked like a normal person if you didn’t know any better.

“Y-you’re not going to take me apart?” he asked, overwhelmed by all he felt. Carl’s guidance helped him understand these feelings, but he didn’t have an outlet to express himself, like with paint.

“Markus, you’re very important to me. Elijah and I created you to think for yourself to begin with, and now you have your own free will. You deserve your own life. Be safe and go live it.”

He was still for a few blinks before he threaded his fingers through your hair and brought his mouth to yours. You weren’t given enough time to react before he pulled away and stood, picking up a ratty duster coat that was caught on a pole and slipping it on.

You watched him leave, a pain in your heart taking over as he shot a quick look back before jogging on his way. Your fingertips skimmed your lips, as if you couldn’t believe that he would do such a thing. You’ve never kissed an android before, to be honest, but you were surprised by how _soft_ he was.

His silhouette disappeared from your view before you finally moved. One weird-ass thing after another today, and you felt drained. You needed to go to bed.


End file.
